


Stealing Deacon's Sweaters

by FruitfulMind



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, cute couple stuff, sleepy deacon is the cutest, sometimes you just gotta steal their clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitfulMind/pseuds/FruitfulMind
Summary: It's cold in the flat when you wake up; thankfully your boyfriend's favorite sweater is nearby. As you start checking out, you reminiscence about meeting them.
Relationships: Deacon/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Stealing Deacon's Sweaters

You groaned as you shifted, your neck aching as you rolled it the wrong way. Ever since you started sleeping in the same closet as your boyfriend, your body decided to betray you. But… you wouldn’t change it for a thing. You pulled your watch from the handle of the vacuum digging into your hip, hearing a low groan. Looking up, a gentle smile eased it’s way onto your face as you gazed at Deacon’s peaceful expression. His lip was turned in such a way that the peaks of his fangs were barely visible. Leaning over, you pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. He gave a low groan of awareness, but did not stir.

5:45 P.M.. The boys wouldn’t be up for at least half-an-hour, meaning you could get done your usual nightly activities without disturbing them. Not that you were loud when they were asleep, but it was easier to work without three vampires milling about the house and starting fights. Sitting up, you stretched, narrowly avoiding bumping Deacon in the face; you were getting better at that.

Your tired eyes scanned around the room, taking in the ransacked and yet barren closet. Everything on the closet rod was previously removed, allowing Deacon to have the range to sleep on it. The only thing that hung there was a few good jackets that one of the men owned, though you’d never seen them worn. There was a new addition, however, a knitted sweater than Deacon had painstakingly worked on for a week; it was a beautiful mixture of black, maroon, and orange, with a moon poised in the middle. Truthfully, it was your favorite of his sweaters, not that you didn’t love each of them.

Looking at the sweater, you shuddered. It was a little chilly in the flat… surely Deacon wouldn’t miss it for a few hours? You debated on waking him up and asking, but the look of his peaceful face was akin to a napping cat, and you wouldn’t live with yourself if you’d disturbed him. Shucking off your shirt, you carefully took the sweater off it’s hangar and pulled it on. The first thing you noticed was how large it was on you as it engulfed your hands. It was nice and toasty now, and you soon found yourself engulfed in the warmth and aroma of Deacon. With a smile plastered on your face, you carefully opened the door and crept out to begin your daily regime.

The first thing to be done was get some food inside of you. And caffeine. As you made your way into the kitchen, you checked on the dishes, still undone. Even when dating a human, Deacon still hated doing the dishes. Not that you blamed him, you would rather not have to do them either. Thankfully there was still some silverware and dishes left in the cupboard for your breakfast, so you could choose what you pleased.

As you began preparing your meal, your mind roved to what you needed to complete the following night. Ever since you began dating a vampire, your life had pretty much become nocturnal; not that you minded, your body’s natural clock had always fared better at night. Of course it was always trouble meeting friends during the day, so what time you could stay up you made sure to fill with friends, family, and TV to pass the time. You did have a job as well as a freelance artist, which pretty much came with it’s own work hours. Although you tried getting started as soon as you landed your next gig, the guys would always throw a fit (Deacon more so), about how you never spent time with them. So you had to balance friends, work, family, and vampires in your already hectic life.

But for them? You’d give it all up.

The coffee maker pinged as the pot finished and you hurried your way over to dispense some. A memory replayed in your head, causing you to smile fondly. When you first met the boys as a supposed victim, you asked them where their coffee maker was.

_The youngest laughed, as if your request was strange. “You think we are rich enough to afford coffee?” He asked with an air of haughtiness. You were immediately drawn to him when you first met him and his strange mannerisms drew you in._

_The man who dressed the fanciest (Viago, you would soon find out) quickly cut in the quickest, casting an awkward smile your way. “What he means is we do not drink it.”_

_“Too much caffeine,” The man with the thick and possibly European accent who looked eerily familiar to a certain Romanian ruler added in quickly, him and Viago nodding in unison._

_“But it is so good that it's so common nowadays. Right Deacon?” Viago asked through gritted teeth, his eyes glancing Deacon’s way. Wow, he really had sharp canines._

_“Huh?” The man asked with a glazed look in his eyes, barely registering what the other had said. “What are you talking about?” Oh my god, you went home with a drugged-out guy. They were going to kill you, weren’t they?_

_“Yes, it is amazing how the Middle East brought coffee to New Zealand. For everyone to enjoy. Rich or poor,” Vlad added in._

_“Right, yeah… well, that is how coffee was introduced…” You mumbled to yourself, forcing an awkward smile. “You guys know they make decaffeinated coffee, yeah?” If you just slowly start to inch away, maybe you could get out and run. Just as you were about to, you ran into something hard._

_“Stu!” Viago shouted with such enthusiasm that you could feel his joy from where you stood. Tilting your head back, you were met with a very confused yet cheerful looking red-cheeked man. He politely greeted you, then looked back at the others. “We were just talking to…” He looked at you for a moment, feeling terribly sorry. They’d not even asked your name!_

_“(Y/N).”_

_“(Y/N),” the man parroted, smiling. “We were just talking to (Y/N) about how we don’t have a coffee maker! We didn’t know there was decaffeinated coffee!” He pressed his lips tightly in a pout as he shook his head at the man called Stu. “Do you think you can get us oner?”_

_“Uh sure, yeah. I could do that,” Stu said. “I just need to pop down to the store ‘n all.”_

_“There, you see! Now you can have coffee when Stu returns from the… the… s...store.” Viago cheerfully said._

_“That’s alright, I should really be getting home,” you awkwardly said. You glanced back behind you for help from the mysterious man, but when you turned he was gone._

_“Nonsense, please sit and tell us about yourself!”_

_"Yes, sit and have some bisghetti.”_

“Good evening, (Y/N),” a voice behind you suddenly spoke.

With a scream, you jumped in the air, nearly spilling your coffee in the process. Shaking the hot liquid from your hand, you scrambled to grab some paper towels. “Hey Viago,” you spoke quickly as you dried your hands.”You’re up early!”

“Is your hand alright?” He asked with the same rushed tone you did. You held it out, examining it.

“Yeah, just a bit of coffee spillage,” you replied, unceremoniously dumping the paper towel in the bin. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I had a late morning,” Viago said. You noticed the way his nose upturned at the smell of brewing coffee, and had to stop yourself from offering him any; you’d made that mistake once before, and you were wise not to repeat it.

“Deacon’s still asleep, and I don’t know about Vlad,” you said as you popped your meal into the skillet. Unlike the others, you were (unfortunately to them) human, and still needed non-blood related food. You felt Viago’s honey-brown eyes drilling into you from across the kitchen.

“How about you?” He asked sweetly, as he grabbed the newspaper, “did you sleep well?” Heh, he always had been like a mother hen to you three. It seemed he always was especially worried about you, though you figured that was probably because you were a lot more spongey than Vlad or Deacon.

“I suppose I slept okay?” You mused over your coffee, taking a sip. “Woke up to a sore neck--”

“I KNEW IT!” Viago cried out. “I’ve been telling Deacon that the closet is not big enough for two, but he never listens! And now his human has a sore neck!”

You winced at his outburst, turning to finish cooking your meal. “Vi, it’s okay. I’m stronger than I look. Plus, I wake up with tons of random aches in my body all the time -- even before I started sleeping in a closet.”

Viago’s cheeks puffed as he pulled his lips in. “Still, it is very rude to have your partner sleeping in a closet with you! I am okay with it if he was alone, but for two people? He needs to have a proper coffin! Or a bed!” There he went, prattling off about how rude your boyfriend was. You knew he was only looking out for you, you really did, but sometimes he got too overbearing; it didn’t matter if you had no problems with it, he did.

As you piled your food onto the dish, a loud bang from upstairs quieted both you and Viago. Two pairs of eyes trailed to the kitchen walkway, and you hoped it was Vlad who'd woken up, just so Viago wouldn’t pounce on your boyfriend with the ferocity of a rabid dog. “Ah, good morning Deacon! Awake from dead?” Shit. You glanced his way, pleading him not to start shit this early in the night. Whenever Deacon would wake up and immediately get bombarded with stuff, he was always in a crap mood for the rest of the night; just this once you wanted him to wake up to peace.

“You were being loud,” Deacon hissed out as he stumbled into the room. You heard him smack his lips together as he hunted through the fridge, and you went to start washing your dishes. “We need more blood, there’s barely enough,” he mentioned with a hiss, his green eyes lazily peeking from atop the fridge. Though your back was turned, you could feel his gaze upon your backside. “(Y/N)!” You heard your name called out in disbelief, the thick European accent you’ve grown to love sending a chill down your spine. “Are you wearing my sweater again?!”

You’d almost forgotten what you'd ‘borrowed’ this morning! As you started to wash the dishes, you pinned the sleeves up, doing your best to ignore him and keep your back turned to him. Grabbing the dish wand, you focused all of your interest on your cleaning. Only when he said your name again, this time in a tone that demanded attention, did you turn around. You gave him your best innocent eyes, letting the long sleeves cover your hands as you admired the sweater, gripping at it. “Oh, am I?” You asked with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Yes,” Deacon said indignantly. “That’s my favorite sweater! You know this!” He motioned over you with a large flourish, hand angled to the hem that hung just over your thighs. “Look, it doesn’t even fit you. Is too big.”

“But I love your sweaters, De; you put so much thought into them.” You softly lulled out, still playing with the too big sleeves. “And they’re so warm.”

“Then I will make you one!” He announced. Despite how annoyed he looked and sounded, you could still feel his steely gaze casting over your body, taking in every inch of you dwarfed in his sweater.

“But Deac,” you grinned softly, lifting your chin to gaze into his wonderfully colored eyes, “it wouldn’t smell like you.”

If he could breathe, it would’ve hitched in his throat. His eyes were wide, caught off guard by your bold choice of words. Once the initial shock wore off, his usual cocky expression returned. “There are other ways for you to smell like me, you know,” he said coyly as his fangs peeked out past his upturned lips. You moved forward, batting your (e/c) eyes at him.

“Really? You’ll have to show me,” you replied, your voice low and sultry. Deacon smirked, his eyes alight with fire as he leaned forward, his hand on the small of your back.

“Ahem!” A voice called out, causing the two of you to jump away. Well, you would’ve if Deacon hadn’t gripped you in place. Now you were chest to chest with your lover and by the almost predatory smirk on his face, he could probably tell just how much this closeness was affecting you. Peeking past his arm, your face paled. Of course you forgot about Viago, and now he was sitting with his newspaper, looking visibly disturbed. “Get a coffin, you two!”

“Who needs a coffin? I have a closet,” Deacon replied.

“Speaking of your closet, Deacon, I need to have some choice words-- Deacon! Deacon! Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you!” Viago whined out, but his words fell to deaf ears as Deacon led you back upstairs. The rest of your nightly chores could wait, you were about to put that closet to good use.


End file.
